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“Do you think you can get Ryle on a baseball team?”
I do think I could. Ryle would like it. But I want to go back to the way she looked at me and then looked away. Jules threw up a stone wall around her heart and her mind when we split up. I used to know her well enough that we finished each other’s sentences, that we didn’t even have to talk—we just always knew what the other was thinking. Now I have no idea what she thinks, what she wants in life.
“Yeah.” I nod. “I’ll talk to Keith. He’s missed a few games, but I’m sure at his age and that level, it won’t be a big deal.”
“Good.” She flashes me an uneasy smile. “Thanks.”
I bite my tongue before I tell her not to thank me. Ryle’s my son, too. Of course I want him to play baseball or whatever it is he’s interested in. As much as I would like to sit here and dig into the past and the things that broke us, I’m afraid of what it might do to our truce. We’re friendly enough now so that Ryle doesn’t have to suffer through tension and heartache. But if I push this now, that would likely change.
The last thing I want is to make her angry and end up making things hard for Ryle.
“I should go.” I press my hands on the table, wishing she would argue, ask me to stay longer. When she doesn’t, I stand and push the chair in. “Thanks for dinner. It was fun.”
“It was,” she agrees. She doesn’t stand when I walk away from the table, but she does call after me to say goodnight.
It was. A good night. Until it wasn’t anymore.
8
Julie
Ryle and Ethan talk about baseball all the way to the ballfield. I peek at them in the rearview mirror when I’m stopped. They’re both adorable in their little baseball pants and red t-shirts. Ethan has his ballcap pulled down so hard his ears stick out. Ryle’s, on the other hand, barely sits on his head. He’s going to need to tug it down a bit, or he’ll lose it running the bases.
Truman called me the day after we talked about Ryle playing to tell me he got him on Ethan’s team. Since Harper’s still in the big cast and not getting around well, I offered to drive Ethan to the game, though I have to admit, I was worried about running into Truman when I picked him up.
I’m still reeling over what he said to me the other night, especially after we had a fun night together with Ryle. Well, I thought we had a fun night together. Apparently, if Truman enjoyed himself, it was because he was with Ryle. Not me.
It’s not even like he said anything mean. There probably aren’t a lot of guys who wish their exes well and sincerely want them to find love and happiness with someone else. But Truman’s parting words the other night drove home the point that he doesn’t want to be with me. He’d balked when I got pregnant. He’s changed his tune about Ryle, thankfully, and he’s a great dad. But he obviously doesn’t want to be that involved in parenting with me. Like, under-one-roof kind of parenting.
Not that I really believed he would ever change his mind. I guess I did what I was worried Ryle would do. Truman stayed for dinner, and I got my hopes up that it meant something. Ryle handled it better than I did.
When I park, the boys jump out of the backseat and hurry across the grass to the field. I start to holler at Ryle to wait, but he’s already out of earshot, and besides, it’s probably better for him to be excited and rush in with no hesitation than to wait for his mom to walk him over.
I grab my phone and pocket my keys. There’s a game on the field right now—a powder blue team and a green team. The early evening sun is right in my face as I move slowly toward the field. Looking for Ryle, and maybe more importantly, for Ryle’s coach, I put my hand up to shield my eyes.
And there he is.
Not the coach. Or Ryle.
Truman.
I watch him for a second, my stomach tied in knots over seeing him again. I’m thrilled that he’s here to watch Ryle play, but I don’t know why he didn’t tell me he would be here. And I feel a little prickly after what he said the other night.
He’s talking to a guy, I assume another dad, and then suddenly, Ryle stands in front of them, and Truman gives him his full attention. Fascinated by this new Truman, I mosey over to stand a bit closer, but mostly I’m still hidden behind a group of boys, a small set of bleachers, and a tree. Ryle has his glove on now. It looks huge on his skinny little arm, but the salesgirl told me it was better to get him a real glove, not the cute little ones designed for tee-ball.
Judging from the way Ryle is showing it off to Truman, he likes it, but I hold my breath when Truman takes it to study it. My whole body deflates when he nods his approval and hands it back to Ryle with a grin. Shoulders still drooped in relief, I feel a jab of pain right in the feels when Truman reaches up to tug the bill of Ryle’s cap down a bit.
A man in a red shirt like Ryle’s and Ethan’s calls them all down from the dugout and gathers them in a circle. I watch for a moment while the coach talks to the boys and high fives them and finally decide to make my way to a spot on the bleachers. I go around the other side in hopes that Truman won’t notice me. There’s a group of moms, I assume, clumped together in the middle of the aluminum bleachers. A few of them notice me and wave. I wave in response, but I sit alone a few feet away. I kind of want a moment to watch my little boy play ball.
I look down at my phone when it buzzes.
Thank you again for driving Ethan.
I’m smiling when I answer Harper.
No problem. It’s probably easier for Ryle that he and Ethan came together.
“Hey.”
